


Fallen World

by FrozenDoe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Evil Asgard, Gen, Internal Monologue, Miðgarðr | Midgard, Odin's A+ Parenting, The Nine Realms, a different perspective on the events of Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 14:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12256455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenDoe/pseuds/FrozenDoe
Summary: The humans seemed so carefree, so light and without responsibility. They did not understand the real part they had played, the side they had chosen in a war that had raged since before this civilization had been born. They had no idea the true nature of the conflict that raged around them, nor even what had taken place on their own world.Fenrir sighed and turned back to the water, watching the dark waves wash over the shore and drag delicate petals into the murky depths.





	Fallen World

Far from his home, a man stood under a bough of swaying cherry blossoms. Before him, small waves crashed against their banks. Pink petals were thrown about the water, ripped from their flowers to float about the dark water. The man looked up from the bay, looking to the stone memorial behind him.

The humans were such fascinating creatures, he mused, not half a century before this man had been both loved and reviled, one half of a revolution that had begun the liberation of a people long oppressed. Now they honored him alongside their greatest leaders, his teachings carved to stone in the heart of their capital. King’s people were throwing off their chains, finding power for themselves in a land that had enslaved their forefathers. Midgard had changed so drastically in the last few centuries, their traditions and practices changing so much in such little time.

The man held out his wrist, contemplating the chain digging into his wrist. His own people, his family had not been so fortunate. Torn from their home like ants before a hurricane, his siblings had landed in chains, his father in a golden cage. Even as he stood there, his brothers sat, trapped in their own bonds. The oldest brother enslaved and forced to carry the burden of their oppressors, the youngest tossed into the wilderness and forced to raise himself. Their only sister had escaped most of their torment, cursed and banished to a land desolate but safe. He had come so close to reuniting their family not three months back, only to fail once again and worsen their situation even further.

Midgard had few sorcerers, but the few they had were powerful and useful. Through the aid of one such mage, he had finally called out to his father, a plea set through the realms to seek his family wherever they may be found. He had come so close to succeeding, his call was heard and a fortnight later his father had appeared.

His father had burst onto Midgard, dramatic and eye catching, drawing the attention of the world in a few nights. The man had been so relieved he hadn’t cared about his father’s pursuers, not even the golden **_(Oathbreaker, traitor)_ ** prince. He had followed his father over the globe, but it wasn’t until New York he had realized his error. His father had been twisted into a deranged madman, far from the gentle, reserved man he had known as a welp.

Once he had finally stood on the same ground as his beloved sire, dread and rage filled him once he realized that not even he had escaped the Tyrant King’s grasp. He had assumed his father’s actions and the careless destruction to be a result of his desperation to find his children, and the dramatics a cover to seek them out. But he had not made the slightest effort to find his lost offspring, and he had followed him to New York to seek answers. He had climbed a skyscraper near Stark Tower, had planned to confront his sire, but once he came within eyesight of his father he realized the severity of the situation.

He had never been gifted in the art of magic, that was a family talent that had gone to his sister and older brother. However, even with his limited senses he could recognize the dark stink of mind altering magics. He was imprinted to the Tyrant King as a whelp, a desperate bid by his parents to find him safety and acceptance as a protector of his lands, and as such he recognized the stench of his magics. His father was forced to act against his wishes by the same man that now passed judgment on him, and the man had no way to know his fate.

“What’d that tree ever do to you?” a man asked.

He snapped out of his revery, looking to the source of the voice. Two human males stood in the path, watching him. He let out a barking laugh as he recognized them. The taller, blond man was the same Captain America that helped subdue his father, the second the man called Falcon. He shook his head in wry amusement. “Ah, nothing. Just contemplating life. It was such a pleasant day I thought to go on a walk, but I find myself distracted,” he offered.

Falcon nodded, “well, have a nice day.”

He nodded, watching the pair as they resumed their jog around the bay. The humans seemed so carefree, so light and without responsibility. They did not understand the real part they had played, the side they had chosen in a war that had raged since before this civilization had been born. They had no idea the true nature of the conflict that raged around them, nor even what had taken place on their own world.

Fenrir sighed and turned back to the water, watching the dark waves wash over the shore and drag delicate petals into the murky depths.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is curious, Fenrir is at the Martin Luther King memorial in Washington DC


End file.
